Goodbye
by repmetsyrrah
Summary: Lady Sybil Branson is lying, cold and silent in that box, just at the end of the path and suddenly Gwen's not sure she can do this.


**A/N:** So not what I meant to write but here. Take place just before 3x06.

**Goodbye**

* * *

She wonders if they'll recognise her.

It's been years and housemaids do come and go so seamlessly.

She doubts they'll even notice her at all.

It's almost impossible to think that only four days ago she had opened the letter so carelessly, given no warning before it had torn into her heart.

The shaky letters. The brief message that had made her cry out so suddenly and with so much pain her husband had broken his cup as he'd come running to her.

It had been in the paper of course, she had read it the next day, filling in many details. Tom hadn't wanted her to find out like that though and that had made her cry too. That after all he had suffered he'd still thought of her.

Her husband had offered to accompany her but she'd declined. She told him there'd be no point but in truth, it would have been so terribly unfair.

She spots them by the door as soon as she steps through the church gates, and there's a man in a morning suit with them who looks so much like Tom. She knows it must be him, the resemblance is too great, but it's not the Mr. Branson she had known so well.

She wonders if he ever will be again. Only a blind man couldn't have seen how deep a place Sybil took in his heart. Now she was gone he had been torn open, left with only half of himself.

He spots her and she thought she would be able to handle it but suddenly he's running and she's in tears as they collide, holding each like they had so many years ago at the garden party, except there's a piece missing now and it hurts so badly Gwen's not sure it will ever heal.

"You came."

At least that's what she thinks he says but his voice is too choked with tears to hear properly and Gwen's throat is too tight to seek clarification.

They hold each other for what seems like an age, saying everything they can without speaking, before they finally pull apart.

"I'll see you after," she manages but Tom shakes his head.

"No, you'll sit with me."

"I can't, that's family." She looks over at them, still seeming so regal and imposing, even in black.

"Sybil's family," Tom tells her, "and that's you."

She can't reply to that so she merely takes his hand in answer.

He leads her over to them, ignoring the confused looks.

"Gwen will sit with us," he informs them. It's not a request.

Us. How strange, she thinks, to hear him so unthinkingly include himself in the family of his old employer.

She watches Lady Edith's eyes flicker in recognition before she nods. "Of course," she agrees softly, her voice catching, "of course you must."

Lady Mary doesn't recall her, that much is obvious, but she's aware enough to know she's missed something incredibly important and nods politely.

Mr. Crawley appears beside Tom and places a hand on his arm. Sybil would like that, Gwen thinks before she can stop herself. One of her last letters had contained an entire page about how Mr. Crawley had taken Tom under his wing and how utterly thrilled Sybil had been that he had someone on his side.

She'll miss those letters.

Tom holds his hand out and Gwen takes it, holding it for a moment of encouragement before he follows his brother-in-law down the path, where a simple wooden coffin waits for them.

The realisation of what rests inside quite literally knocks the breath out of her and she worries she might pass out.

_Sybil_.

Lady Sybil Branson is lying, cold and silent in that box, just at the end of the path and suddenly Gwen's not sure she can do this.

She was twenty-four. So utterly full of life, so full of passion for a future she will now never see.

She loved so freely and never judged. The world is far too much in need of people like Lady Sybil to bear losing them so early, Gwen thinks.

A hand grips her arm, keeping her upright and she looks up into Lady Edith's face but not for a second does she see her old employer. Instead, Sybil's sister looks back, her eyes just as wet as Gwen's and the pair of them hold each other up as the pall-bearers take their places to carry the woman they all loved so much to her final farewell.

Tom is at the front, with Matthew. Lord Grantham joins them, with Thomas by his side. Dr. Clarkson brings up the rear with a finely dressed man Gwen recognises but can't name.

The crowd is moving inside and Gwen finds herself going with them, not sure if it's Edith holding her or the other way around but only knowing neither of them is letting go soon.


End file.
